


One Too Many

by riptheh



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Romance, basically adora gets drunk and she's dumb, literally just fluff and adora being drunk and dumb to catra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riptheh/pseuds/riptheh
Summary: Written for a prompt fill.Takes place post season 5, Catra is late to a ball, so Adora has a few drinks to keep her cool. So, predicatably, she is not cool. Not cool at all.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 318





	One Too Many

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a double prompt fill, which were: Catra in a dress and Adora getting drunk in front of Catra post s5.
> 
> Hope this fulfills the prompts, I had a lot of fun writing it!
> 
> And a shout out to hellynz who never fails me especially when i ask her about fashion because my butch lesbian ass doesn't know anything beyond hhhhh hawaiian shirt cool

Catra is late.

Okay, so Catra is always late. This is not unusual behavior, and should, in fact, be expected, because even after joining the Rebellion-that-is-no-longer-a-Rebellion, Catra has never shown up on time for meetings, strategic publicity trips, or anything else that involves actual work. She does in fact do the work, and does it well once she arrives, which is a marked difference to the Horde, but she never actually shows up on _time_.

So maybe Adora should have expected it. Still, she had thought, considering it was their first ball and Catra had hinted that she would be wearing something special—the whole reason she had dressed with Scorpia instead of Adora—that she would want to get there on time.

Or maybe Adora’s just early. She’s always been the early one, in contrast to Catra; always the first to rise and the first to get to training and the first in—well, everything. It’s sort of her thing.

Which should mean that this new first—wearing a suit at the first ball since the end of the war—should be easy. But it’s not. In fact, it’s actually incredibly nerve-wracking, and with every moment that passes by without Catra’s appearance, Adora’s nerves only grow.

She’d thought Catra would like the suit. She’d actually been planning it ever since Catra had made some throwaway comment about liking the look of suits more than dresses, and now, decked out in a white on gold suit, her hair done up in intricate braids courtesy of Glimmer, she oscillates between excitement and breathtaking fear.

Because it’s new, and new is both great—and also terrifying. She can’t even tell if she likes the feel of it—she thinks she does, but most of her brain is taken up by wondering what Catra will think, and when Catra will arrive, and whether she’ll even like—

“Adora, are you okay?”

It’s not the voice Adora wants to hear. Still, it’s a welcome one.

“I’m fine!” she says in a voice higher than usual, spinning around on her heel so fast that Glimmer has to hold out a hand to stop her. “I’m totally, absolutely fi—how are you, anyway?”

“Great.” Glimmer is eying her in concern, one hand pressed against her shoulder to make sure she doesn’t fall over. “I was just getting Bow and I a drink. Do you want one?”

“A drink?” Adora has never had a drink before—not even a drop. She’s pretty sure—or at least Catra told her—that Shadow Weaver kept a stash of wine somewhere in the Horde, but she’d never seen it, nor been tempted to seek it out. “Uh, I don’t know if I like alcohol.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Gently, Glimmer steers her to the refreshments, and Adora is both simultaneously relieved at the distraction and terrified that she’ll miss Catra. If she ever shows up. “How about champagne? That’s really light.”

“Uh, sure.” Adora is still eying the entrance, and studiously ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, which is growing worse and worse with each second. She’s starting to wonder now if Catra will ever show, or if maybe she took one look at Adora’s suit and decided she looked silly and then—

“Adora.” Glimmer’s voice is kind, even as a glass is pressed gently into her hand. “You know she’ll show up, right?”

“Huh?” Adora tears her gaze from the entrance and focuses on Glimmer. “Uh, what? I’m not looking for any—”

“Sure.” Glimmer has one eyebrow raised and a look that says she would cross her arms if she wasn’t holding two drinks. “Adora, she probably just wants to make sure she looks okay. I bet she’s just as nervous as you are.”

“What? No!” Adora gives a laugh that should be full of confidence, but actually just sounds high and shaky. “I’m not nervous. I’m fine. Actually, I’m great. See?”

And to prove it, she quickly raises her glass to her lips and downs half of it in one go, grimacing only slightly at the taste. It’s not as bad as she’d thought—actually, it’s very not as bad as she’d thought. She’s actually kind of enjoying it, she realizes mid-drink, and as such is surprised to find that when she lowers the glass, more than half is gone.

“Whoa, whoa!” Glimmer reaches out a hand as if to stop her, though it’s already too late. “Adora, slow down! You have to space it out.”

“Do I?” In fact, that sounds like a very bad idea. Because now that Adora is thinking, she’s recalling that people drink alcohol for nerves. To get rid of them, or to quiet them, or any one number of things. 

Maybe that’s what she should have been doing from the start. Quieting her nerves.

“Yes.” Slowly, Glimmer removes her hand, though she’s still eying Adora uncertainly. “Okay, I’m going to go back to Bow. Do you want to join us? We’re right over there.”

She nods her head in a direction Adora isn’t paying attention to, and without thinking, Adora nods.

“Sure.” There’s a strange feeling in her stomach, like the sour bubbliness of the champagne has transformed into a new kind of fluttering, one not wholly unpleasant. “I’m just going to…get something to eat.”

Eating will probably help too, she thinks, though at the very thought her stomach turns.

“Okay.” Glimmer nods, clearly relieved, then glances in the direction Bow is apparently waiting. “I’m going to take these to him. I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay.” Adora nods, and as she does, feels a little better. The world is turning a little fizzy, and the condensation on her glass is soaking into her fingers, and she feels like she might drop it if she’s not careful, but she doesn’t really mind. She’ll just finish it. “I’ll be here.”

“Good.” Glimmer sets her lips, clearly worried, but then steps back and, after a moment, disappears into the crowds. Adora watches her go, raising her glass in salute, and the moment she’s truly gone, turns and tips the rest into her mouth.

One glass won’t hurt her, she’s sure of it. After all, what’s a little alcohol in the face of the hero of Etheria?

————

Glimmer does not come back. In fact, she doesn’t come back for so long that Adora tries another glass of champagne, then another, then something fruity and sweet, and by the time she’s most of the way through that, the world is very floaty and so is she, and she forgot what she was worried about at all.

Which turns out to be spectacularly bad timing, because that’s when Glimmer does come back, and this time she brings somebody.

“Adora! Look who I fou—Adora?”

Adora turns, nearly-empty glass dangling from her hand, and knows immediately that she’s in trouble. For two reasons.

One is the glass in her hand, the one Glimmer told her not to drink, and the one Glimmer is now staring at with a look that says ‘this is going to be bad’. The other is that Catra is standing by her side, but it’s not Catra like Adora knows her.

It’s Catra, but she’s wearing a _dress_.

Okay, if Adora’s being honest, she really likes suits. She likes wearing them, she’s decided somewhere around her third glass of champagne, and she also likes seeing Catra in them. In fact, most of her time spent deep into her fourth glass was contemplating what Catra would look like once she showed up, if she ever showed up.

She expected a suit, similar to the first one she wore. She did not expect…this.

It’s….remarkably pretty. Red and knee-length, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder and her hair artfully mussed like she’s put way too much thought into it but didn’t want to show it. She’s staring at Adora in surprise, her eyes wide as they sweep over her form, and for a moment Adora can’t understand why, and then she recalls that she, too, is wearing something different.

But there’s no way it compares to _Catra_.

“Uh….hi.” It’s the dumbest thing she could say, probably. Who says ‘hi’ to their girlfriend? But at the moment, it’s all Adora can come up with. Her brain is fritzing, static like a foot gone to sleep, and she’s not sure if it’s the alcohol, or the dress, or both.

“Hi…?” Catra is still staring, only now her eyes have moved from the suit to the drink in her hand. Which is bad. Very bad.

So Adora does the only think she can think to do, and shoves it behind her back.

“Hi,” she says again, and knows she should probably continue the conversation, but doesn’t know how. Her mind is still spinning in circles, egged on by the alcohol, the remains of which have now sloshed against the back of her suit with the hasty movement, and which she can feel soaking through the fabric. “You, uh, you look—”

Great. Amazing. Spectacular. Like Adora sort of wants to find a quiet place and—

“Pretty,” she finishes lamely, and Catra’s eyebrows go up higher.

“Thanks,” she says, and she might be blushing slightly, but Adora can’t tell. “Adora, you look—”

Her eyes roam over Adora’s suit, and she opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it again. Then she says exactly what Adora doesn’t want to hear.

“Did you just hide a drink behind your back?”

“What? No!” Adora shakes her head, her hands still clasped tightly around the glass behind her back. “Why would I hide a drink, anyway? I’m allowed to drink, you know!”

“Adora, I gave you _one_ glass of champagne,” Glimmer says, her voice tight and her eyes darting to Catra like she’s about to be admonished. “Please don’t tell me you drank more.”

“I didn’t,” Adora lies, and watches them exchange a glance. “I didn’t! I was, uh, holding this. For Perfuma.”

“Sure.” Catra steps forward, half a smile spreading across her face, and holds out a hand. “Should we take it to her?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no!” Quickly, before Catra can do anything to the contrary, Adora spins around and shoves it into the hands of a passing waiter. “There, it’s gone! He’s going to take it to her.”

“You didn’t tell him who to take it to.” Catra watches the waiter leave, now-empty glass in his hand. Then she turns back to Adora. “Are you sure you’re—”

“I’m okay!” she declares, and in that moment, the glass safely out of her hands, and Catra finally arrived, she really feels it. The whole room is spinning, sure, but it’s a nice, floaty kind of spinning, and she can deal with that.

She can also definitely deal with the hand on her shoulder, which then moves to her waist, hesitating as if the owner isn’t sure the movement is allowed. Adora doesn’t have to look to know that it’s Catra, and also doesn’t hesitate in taking the hand and putting it on her waist herself.

“Uh—” When she looks over, Catra is bright red, red enough to match her dress, and it would be adorable if it weren’t so funny. In fact, it’s both, and before Adora knows it, she’s grinning like a loon, and giggling too.

“You—” She reaches out to poke Catra on the shoulder— “Are really, really red.”

Catra scowls. “Am not,” she says, but this just makes her go redder, which only makes Adora giggle until she’s snorting.

“Are too,” she replies, and hears distantly a sigh that sounds remarkably like Glimmer. She’s not paying attention to that, however, because she’s too preoccupied with the hand that’s on her waist—which _she_ put there, thanks very much—and the owner of that hand, who is now eying her with one raised eyebrow.

“Sorry I was late,” she says, and flushes slightly again with a glance down at herself. “I, uh, couldn’t decide what to wear. Well, I decided on lots of things, and it took forever.”

“That’s okay.” Adora nods wisely, only to stop when the movement makes the room go awfully swimmy. “You picked perfectly. In my opinion. Better than perfect, actually. What’s better than perfect?”

“Uh—” Catra opens her mouth, but doesn’t have time to answer before Adora spins to Glimmer. 

“Glimmer, you’re queen!” She jabs a finger at Glimmer, who looks down it, then glances off to the right, as if gauging her chances for escape. “What’s better than perfect?”

“Probably not having another drink,” Glimmer answers dryly, eyes sweeping over Adora’s form, which, unbidden, has started to melt against Catra’s shoulder. “That would be better than perfect, in my opinion.”

Adora sticks out her lower lip. “Okay, uncalled for. I only had like, four!” She pauses then, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be lying. “I mean, one. Pssh, who’s counting, anyway?”

“You!” Glimmer says. “You should be, Adora!” She raises her hands, as if to toss them up in exasperation, then seems to think better of it and lowers them. “You know what? Okay. This is my fault. I’m going to get Bow, and we’ll just—”

“Actually, I’ve got her.” Catra’s hand tightens slightly around Adora’s waist, pulling her closer, which is both totally a manipulation tactic and also definitely sort of what Adora was hoping for. “You can go have fun, Glimmer. She’s fine with me.”

Glimmer eyes Adora once more, clearly unconvinced. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re both supposed to be having—”

“Oh, trust me.” Catra’s voice rings with amusement Adora would find suspicious if she weren’t so distracted by the hand on her waist, and the perfume that Catra’s wearing, which is especially interesting, because she doesn’t recall Catra ever wearing perfume. “This is going to be lots of fun.”

“Okay, now I’m more worried,” Glimmer says, but then she glances toward Bow’s direction, and seems to make up her mind. “Okay, fine. If you’re sure—”

“I’m definitely sure.” Adora doesn’t have to look up to see the wicked smile stretching across Catra’s face—she can practically hear it. “You go have fun.”

“Hmmm.” Glimmer studies her for a moment, then tosses her hands up in surrender. “Okay, sure. I still feel like I’m going to regret it, but—have fun.”

With that she turns, and, with one last uncertain glance, starts moving through the crowds, toward the other end of the hall. Catra watches her go, then turns to Adora, who by this point is leaning heavily on her shoulder.

Huh. Who knew alcohol made a person all limp and noodly?

“You’re strong,” Adora slurs, a goofy grin upon her face. The room, though she’s no longer drinking, has begun to swirl even more. “Like, really strong.”

“Sure.” Catra smiles, her eyes roaming up and down Adora’s form. “Or maybe you’re just a lightweight. Also, you look really good in a suit, have I mentioned that?”

Adora frowns. “Am not!” Then she processes the next part of the sentence. “I mean, I am. Do. Look good in a suit, thanks. Not the first part, though. That’s…unaccountable. As in, doesn’t apply.”

“Okay, that’s not what unaccountable means.” Gently, Catra maneuvers her into something closer to a standing position, and starts to guide the both of them to the edge of the room. “Jokes aside though, don’t give out on me yet. I just got here.”

“Not…giving out,” Adora mumbles, but even as she says it, she’s starting to sag, the whole room spinning in a pleasant, drowsy way. “I’m totally cool. Probably cooler than you, but if I say that, you’ll just get mad.”

“Yeah, because it’s not true!” Catra says as they reach the wall, then backtracks. “I mean, I won’t get mad. But it’s not true. Sorry.”

“I’m cooler as She-Ra,” Adora says with a loopy grin as Catra brings them close enough to the wall that she could lean against it—which is probably the plan, not that Adora’s paying attention. “Admit it. You wish you were as tall as She-Ra.”

“What? No!” Catra says, but Adora only grins wider, and makes a valiant attempt at standing up straight, in order to use her full height against Catra’s diminutive form. 

“See, I’m already…so tall,” she slurs, and sways slightly, stopping only when Catra reaches out to grab her arm. “Wait ‘til I turn into She-Ra.”

“What?” Catra’s eyes widen, and then she does lunge forward, as if to grab her by the shoulders. “Wait, Adora, do not—!”

But it’s too late. Adora already has her arm out, and before Catra can yank it away, she opens her mouth and hollers, “For the honor of GRAYSKULL!”

It’s loud enough that everybody nearby hears, and they all turn, shocked whispers running through the crowd.

“Are we under attack?”

“Why is—”

“Maybe it’s for show—”

Adora grins proudly, then looks down at Catra, only to realize that she’s not as short as she expected her to be.

“Huh.” She peers closer, blinking. “Did you get taller?”

Catra just shakes her head, a bemused expression upon her face. “No, dummy. It didn’t work. Probably because you’re wasted.”

“Oh.” Adora frowns, and glances down at her now-slightly wrinkled suit. “That’s disappointing.”

Catra’s lips twitch in amusement. “For you, maybe. C’mon, you should sit down.”

“I don’t wanna,” Adora complains, but she doesn’t protest when Catra takes her gently by the arm and leads her to the floor, her back against the wall and her knees to her chest. She protests even less when Catra settles down beside her, close enough that she could lean against her if need be.

“Okay.” She blinks, and looks around the room, at the people now towering above her. “I could get used to this. Good angle to watch for threats.”

“Huh?” Catra stares at her, then shakes her head. “Okay. First of all, you’re in no state to fight. Second of all—no, that’s it, actually. You’re not fighting anyone.”

“What?” Adora exclaims at the injustice. “Why? That’s not fair!”

Catra just chuckles, and leans forward to adjust the collar of Adora’s shirt, flipped up from the time she’d been leaning against Catra. “Maybe you shoudn’t have had like ten drinks.”

“Uh, it was four,” Adora argues. “I mean, one. Definitely one.”

“Sure.” Catra leans back, collar successfully folded, and Adora’s heart immediately aches at the lack.

“Wait,” she says quickly, mind scrabbling for an idea. “You forgot my other collar.”

Catra stares. “What?”

“Yeah, my, uh—” Quickly, Adora reaches up and pushes up the other side of her collar, sending it standing straight. “You should fix that one too.”

“Uh, okay.” Catra is still staring at her like she’s gone mad, but Adora can work with that. A plan, hazy but strategically excellent, is forming in her mind, and as Catra leans forward, close enough that her body is pressing against Adora’s, Adora acts.

She leans forward, and catches her in a kiss.

It catches Catra completely by surprise, so much so that she stops in her tracks, fingers still caught up in the collar. When she doesn’t immediately respond, Adora, without breaking the kiss, reaches up to move her hand from her collar to her cheek, effectively pulling her in. 

Still, Catra doesn’t respond, which is…new. They’ve definitely kissed before, and done more than that, and Catra’s always loved it, so it would be an understatement to say that she’s confused. Because there’s nothing new about this moment, is there?

Unless it’s the suit. Catra did say she loved it, but loving it is different than like, _loving_ it. Maybe she just wants to wear it. Maybe she doesn’t like it on Adora. Maybe she was just being polite earlier.

So Adora pulls back, confused and, if she’s being honest, slightly hurt.

“Is it the suit?” she asks immediately, before Catra can even summon a response. “Because if it is, I could totally—”

“What?” Catra looks slightly dazed, unfocused, but after a moment she shakes her head, as if trying to clear it. “Oh my god, no. Adora, you’re drunk.”

“What?” Adora frowns, unable to put the pieces together. “So?”

“So, you dummy, I’m not going to kiss you while you’re _inebriated_.” Catra wrinkles her nose, as if the very idea is offensive. “It would be…I dunno. Wrong.”

“Oh.” Adora’s heart falls slightly, even though it’s also swelling a little bit at the thought that Catra is being so chivalrous with her. She never thought the word chivalrous might apply to Catra, which is why it just makes the butterflies in her stomach flutter harder because, well, she’s being chivalrous with _her_. “Can we kiss when I’m not drunk, though?”

Catra laughs. “Yes, obviously. After you sleep it off. First thing in the morning, if you want.”

“Oh. Good.” Adora sags slightly, relieved. “What do we do now, then?”

Catra shrugs, the movement bringing her not-so-subtly closer. “I don’t know. Wait. Until you feel better.”

“Oh, okay.” Adora yawns suddenly, trying and failing to stifle it, and cringes when Catra notices. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Catra is wearing that stupid, crooked grin that Adora likes so much, which is making it very hard to resist kissing her. Still, Adora is a warrior, and a disciplined one at that, so she doesn’t try to convince her. Instead, she puts on her bravest face, and does the next best thing.

She reaches out, and wraps her arm around Catra’s shoulder, pulling her closer.

“I’m…tired,” she says with another yawn, and realizes suddenly that she really means it. “Can I…lean against you?”

Catra’s tone, when she speaks, is full of gentle amusement, the kind Adora’s only ever heard toward her. “Sure.”

“Good.” Adora snuggles closer, until her cheek is practically pressed against Catra’s, then has a thought. “Uh, Catra?”

“Hmm?” Catra is lazily watching the crowd, her tail flicking idly back and forth.

“If you can’t kiss me…can I kiss you?”

“Uh…” Catra frowns, as if considering. “I don’t know. I guess?”

“Oh, good.” Adora straightens slightly, so as to get the angle, and then, when Catra doesn’t pull away, turns and plants a clumsy kiss on her cheek, just to be safe.

“Thanks.” Catra is smiling as she pulls away, so Adora smiles too, wide and slightly loopy.

“You’re welcome,” she tells her, then snuggles close again, resting her head against her shoulder. “Also, I think I might fall asleep.”

Catra gives a good-natured sigh, and pulls her closer. “Go ahead. I’m clearly the perfect pillow.”

“Mmm.” Adora yawns. “You are.”

“Then I’ll stay here.” 

“You better.” Adora grins again, and though her eyes are rapidly sliding shut, opens one to give Catra one last look, just because she wants the memory imprinted before she falls asleep. “And Catra?”

“Hmmm?” Catra looks at her, her tail flicking in that way that Adora knows means she’s happy. 

“You look really, really pretty.”

“Oh.” Catra turns slightly red, and quickly turns to face the crowd. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Now she really is falling asleep, the world melting into dreamy shadows, and she barely has the strength left to mumble the last thing she wants to say. “I really… _really_ like you.”

She almost doesn’t hear Catra’s reply, falling as rapidly as she is into unconsciousness, but just before the world slips away, she catches the words, and they follow her into a gentle, comfortable sleep.

“I love you too, Adora.”

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr at hetzi-clutch if you have prompt requests!


End file.
